


Sweeter Dreams

by Makalaure



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Drunk Maglor is Drunk, Family, Fluff, Gen, General, Humor, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makalaure/pseuds/Makalaure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor is the epitome of the annoying younger brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweeter Dreams

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's works.

Enjoy.

Sweeter Dreams

Maedhros blinked. His room was dark. He must have been imagining things.

He rolled onto his belly and stuffed his face into his pillow, and then jolted upright. There it was again. A knock.

Before Maedhros could decide whether he was polite enough to answer, his door slammed open and someone bounded inside. A voice wailed, "Maedhros! Brother! Woe!"

Maedhros made a pitiful, gurgling sound in his throat and wondered how this became his life. He took his pillow and flung it at the intruder. "What in the bleeding, unholy pits of Utumno do you _want_ at this hour, you convoluted, rotting walnut?"

Maglor's high-pitched giggle only irritated Maedhros further. "Someone's grouchy." He bent down and prodded Maedhros' cheek. As if it were chubby. Maedhros did not appreciate the gesture.

"Hee!"

Maedhros blinked. "Oh, stars. You're drunk, aren't you?" This. He was woken up for this. They had rules in this house for a reason. After the day's work was done, Maedhros did not care if Maglor melted gold and poured it, boiling hot, down his own throat, but he needed his beauty sleep and that was more sacred than the stars in the sky.

"Drunk? _Me_? Oh, Manwë forbid – "

"Do not recklessly use the names of the Valar!" .

"Brother," Maglor sang, "you have such beautiful hair."

"I don't need you to tell me that." He tried to swat Maglor away, and scowled when it didn't work.

"And such _lovely_ cheekbones."

"I...that's not something I ever want to hear from your mouth. Have you been at Father's wine?"

"I want to kiss your luscious lips." Then Maglor caught his reflection in the full-body mirror next to the bed. He licked his index finger and slicked back his hair. "Actually, I could kiss myself right now."

"Oh, stars, you have." A headache began to throb behind Maedhros' eyes. He let out a sad, little moan and put his head in his hands. "That was the finest white wine in Tirion. Wasn't Father saving it for the upcoming dinner with Grandfather's courtiers?"

When he looked up, Maglor had his lips pressed to the mirror.

"Why did I bother asking you?" Maedhros groused. He got out of bed and, with practiced movements, tripped his brother by the ankles. Maglor toppled to the ground, hitting his knees on the marble. There would be some fantastic bruises there the next day.

"Ow," Maglor said and leaned his head against the wall. Instead of standing up, he closed his eyes. Soon he was snoring merrily.

Maedhros watched him, shaking his head. He contemplated dragging his brother outside and leaving him in the hallway for their mother to scrape off the floor in the morning.

After a moment he took an extra pillow and tucked it behind Maglor's head, and then slipped into bed.

The next person to disturb him before morning would get a broken nose, he silently promised.

 -end-

 


End file.
